


Five Nights for Dead

by AlexKingOfTheDamned



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's, Left 4 Dead 2
Genre: Awkward Romance, Broken Bones, Drama & Romance, F/M, Freaky Animatronics, Ghosts, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-02-18 16:41:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2355356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexKingOfTheDamned/pseuds/AlexKingOfTheDamned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the apocalypse, and the Survivors wander into Fazbear's Pizza thinking it'll be a safe haven for the night. They soon learn that they would have been better off sticking with zombies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the lame title... honestly couldn't come up with anything else. 
> 
> So this is a work in progress, we'll see where it goes. There will be relationship (Nellis) drama and more intense robot baloney later on~

It’s the only place lit up for miles. How it still has power after twelve weeks into the apocalypse is a wonder.

 

_Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza_

 

Ellis immediately launches into a story about one time when he and Keith went there for a birthday when he was a kid. He recalls the way the animatronics frightened him with their wide glowing eyes and individual teeth, but Keith had been fearless and climbed right up onto the stage and stole Freddy’s microphone, resulting in the owners throwing them and their families out.

 

“Looks like it’s got solar generators,” Rochelle boots the side of a clunky silver and blue machine. “Soaks up power during the day and then uses it all night.”

 

“Well, let’s go inside!” Ellis says excitedly, ready to prove to himself that the bad dreams he’s had for years about those frightening and unwashed robots are only a result of his childlike memories of them.

 

Inside is very dark. They each turn their flashlights on and swing the beams through dusty air, across arranged tables and overturned chairs, rows and rows of colorful party hats collecting cobwebs, and an empty stage.

 

“Aw, man, that’s where they used to be,” Ellis says, pointing his light at the curtain behind the stage. “There was three of ‘em. Gosh, there was a bear… and a… cat maybe? I think there was a duck.”

 

“There aren’t any zombies in here,” Coach observes out loud, swinging his light all around the giant main room. “Not a single one.”

 

“The zombies are everywhere,” Nick grunts in contrary, but he has to admit that there’s not a single undead in the room, or down either hallway they can see that leads from the main entrance way.

 

“Maybe they don’t like pizza,” Ellis chuckles to himself.

 

Rochelle finds a light switch on the wall and flips it. The lights overhead buzz and flicker to life one by one, illuminating the big room. They squint and switch off their flash lights as their eyes adjust. Ellis wrinkles up his nose at the sight of a long, brown blood streak down one of the two hallways.

 

“Gross. _Someone_ was in here. Let’s go check out the rest of the place.”

 

Before the group can disembark, a strange, crackling sound like distorted microphone feedback reverbs through the room.

 

“ _TURN THAT LIGHT OFF!_ ”

 

All four nearly jump out of their skin at the sudden angry voice shouting over the building’s intercom, instinctively raising their guns and looking around wildly for any signs of trouble.

 

“ _Do you have a death wish?! I said TURN IT OFF! Do you WANT them to find you?!_ ”

 

The group slowly lower their guns and frown baffled at the crackling speakers near the ceiling, Rochelle glancing from the light switch to Coach in a silent question.

 

He pauses for a moment, listening for anything that might be a threat, then slowly nods at her. “Okay, shut it off. Let’s not get off to a bad start with this fella if we can.”

 

“Great, another nut case,” Nick sighs. “If he asks for soda I’m done.”

 

Rochelle shuts the light off after everyone’s flashlights are clicked on again, looking anxiously between her companions.

 

“ _Get to the back! And hurry!”_ the man’s voice is tight with panic over the intercom. _“If you see any robots,_ _turn and run!_ ”

 

The survivors exchange nervous looks as they start to head down the right hallway.

 

“ _No not that one! Take the other hall!_ ”

 

“Probably best to listen,” Coach mutters, doubling his team back through the hallway on the left.

 

They creep down the hallway, the as air thick with apprehension as it is with dust. They don’t see a single zombie, or any robots for that matter, but something about how panicked the man on the intercom is has their guts feeling twisty.

 

“Maybe he’s insane,” Ellis whispers as he waves his light over the empty hallway. “Maybe he thinks he’s fightin’ an army of terminators. Like from the Terminator.”

 

“As opposed to what, the terminators from Titanic?” Nick questions derisively.

 

“I dunno if you ever seen the Terminator!” Ellis bites back in a stage whisper. “Far as I know you ain’t ever seen a movie in your life, you’ve been so busy cheatin’ people outta money!”

 

Coach shushes them both and turns his light on a closed door to their left, but before he can move an inch closer to it the intercom crackles to life again.

 

“ _No, no, no, don’t go in there! Further down the hall, take the open doorway on your right! Hurry, they’re on the move!_ ”

 

The survivors reach the end of the hallway, only to be completely engulfed in shadow. A queasy, bluish light flickers on over their heads, and they squint into the tiny room to their right.

 

“Get in here,” the voice from the intercom hisses.

 

The foursome shuffle into the small, cramped space and meet their new companion officially. He’s sitting on a half-rotted rolling desk chair with his knees pulled up against his chest, staring at them with wide brown eyes, sunken from weeks of sleeplessness just like the survivors. His brows are fixed in a permanent scowl, his thin-lipped mouth pulled into a deep frown. He’s wearing an old security uniform, but it’s just as dusty and tattered as the rest of their clothes.

 

“I’m Mike,” he grunts, pointing to his name tag fixed to his uniform. “What are you doing in my pizza place.”

 

All eyes flicker to Coach as he looks Mike up and down, raising his free hand in a peaceful gesture that would mean a lot more if his other hand wasn’t holding a shotgun. “Look, we didn’t mean to barge in on your place, we didn’t know anybody was in here. This place seems a lot safer than outside with the zombies, so we were tryin’ to see if it was a decent spot to hole up for a bit.”

 

Mike laughs forcedly and loudly. He slams his hand against a button on the wall to his left, and a metal door comes slamming down just in time for those inside to hear running foot steps, followed by pounding on the metal door.

 

“Great, looks like a zombie snuck in behind us,” Nick mutters as the knocking continues, relaxing a little after the initial shock of having the door slam down. Several inches thick, it looks almost like a blast door, and he can’t help but wonder why the security office in a pizza joint would have such heavy-duty safety precautions.

 

“You’d have more luck with the zombies!” Mike exclaims, gesturing towards the door. “I can’t be responsible for what happens to you four in here.”

 

“And what _will_ happen to us in here, exactly?” Coach asks warily, glancing behind him at where the other three have all taken a step back from the door.

 

Mike heaves a great annoyed sigh as the pounding stops, and he hits the button again to lift the door back up. He quickly checks a screen, muttering to himself something about the kitchen before he regards the survivors again with an even deeper scowl.

 

“It just so happens that you’ll meet your death in here. Your slow and claustrophobic death,” he says grumpily and hits the button on his right that illuminates the hall before looking back at the troop. “Shoot, he’s right at the end of the hall.”

 

He wheels his chair over and sticks his head out the right side door and shouts, “I see you, Freddy! I see you and I’ll come for you if you don’t run!”

 

“Freddy? Like the bear?” Ellis scoots over to look out the door, but the hallway is empty. “What happened to them animals anyway? They weren’t on the stage.”

 

“That’s because they’re wandering around,” Mike says gruffly, turning his attention back to the screens.

 

A silence falls over the room as the survivors look at one another with wide eyes.

 

“Okay, Mike, I think we’re just gonna be going now,” Coach says, trying to usher his group out the door, but Mike slams it shut without even looking up from his screens.

 

“You go out there and you’ll die,” he says gravely, looking up at the frightened foursome. “They kill without discretion. They’re after me, but they’ll kill you too.”

 

“And by ‘they’, you mean Freddy?” Rochelle asks cautiously, stepping out from behind Coach.

 

“Freddy...” Mike snorts, “And Bonnie, and Chica, and Foxy. That was him knocking, the bastard,” He nods to the door behind them.

 

Coach puts his hand on Nick’s arm as he reaches for his gun, shaking his head before turning back to Mike. “Look, Mike,” he sighs, “You said yourself you can’t take care of five people. We’ve handled some shit out there, I can tell you, so I’m sure we can get ourselves outta your place just fine.”

 

“No you won’t,” Mike says tiredly, his gaze still fixated on the screens. “The only reason you got back here is because they didn’t know you were here yet. Now that they do, they’ll be targeting you too.”

 

“Are you tryin’ to tell us that them robots are _alive?_ ” Ellis presses as Mike hits the button to close the other door.

 

“Alive,” Mike shrugs. “Haunted. I was told when I first started out that it was their programming to wander around at night, but that’s bull.” He flicks a wadded up straw wrapper at the group and lifts the opposite door again. “If you try to go out there, they’ll try to stuff you into one of the discarded animal suits. The wiring and mechanics inside will shred you up. Have you ever pushed really hard on the end of a tube of tooth paste?”

 

Ellis and Rochelle exchange a horrified and bewildered look, while Nick simply rolls his eyes.

 

“Alright, so what then?” Coach says with a frown. “You gonna just keep us here forever? Are _you_ gonna just stay here forever?”

 

“Me, yes. As for you, until daylight,” Mike says without skipping a beat. “At the end of the night they always return to their stage to recharge on the solar panels. They aren’t active during the day, unless you count those maddening and repetitive songs they play.”

 

“So why don’t you just destroy them when they stay put?” Nick says, unconvinced and sure that he’s found a loop hole in this crazy man’s story.

 

“Because they’re my only defense against the zombies!” Mike barks as though it’s plainly obvious. “You haven’t _lived_ until you’ve watched four animatronics descend on a tank and rip it apart in a few seconds. They kill the zombies so I don’t have to – hold on.”

 

He sticks his head out the door again. “Bonnie, you get back in that bathroom or so help me!”

 

The others look to Coach questioningly, and he shrugs. “Well okay, I’m gonna hold you to that. You let us out come mornin’, and we’ll stay outta your way ‘til then.”

 

“Are we seriously playing along with this?” Nick whispers, leaning in. “The robot muppet band is protecting him _and_ trying to kill him? This guy’s nuts!”

 

“We don’t have much of a choice, and he’s not hurtin’ us. Strange as it is, this gives us a place to hole up for the night, so let’s take advantage of it.” Coach states, leveling an authoritative look at Nick that makes him step back and turn away with a huff.

 

“In this case, the enemy of my enemy is still my enemy,” Mike says. The room is too small to whisper effectively. “My own home security system is trying to kill me.”

 

“You mean them robots really _are alive?_ ” Ellis shudders. “Man I _knew_ somethin’ was up with them when I first laid eyes on ‘em as a kid! I called it, man, I _called_ it!”

 

“Don’t shout,” Mike hisses and slams the door shut again. The pounding is back.

 

Coach eyes the door for a moment before heaving a sigh and sitting down on a crate in the corner, laying his gun across his lap. The others take this as a sign that they can at least try to relax, and start trying to find enough room to settle for the night in the cramped office; a task made more difficult by the fact that Mike needs both the buttons by each door and all the monitors clear. He simply glowers at them if any of them get in his way, and the madness in his eyes is more than enough to make them want to steer clear.

 

After several minutes, Rochelle’s curiosity gets the better of her, and she carefully approaches Mike’s chair. “So uh, you watch them from here all night then?” she asks, peering over his shoulder to get a look at the screens.

 

“I do,” Mike says gruffly, pointing at the monitor that shows the stage. “This is where they should be.” He points at a figure in the bathroom, a figure in the hallway to their right, and a figure in the back room. “This is where they are.”

 

Rochelle stares at the figure in the hall on the screen with a frown and peers out the door. She sees the barest silhouette of a large bird.

 

“Guys…” she says warily. “There’s something in the hall. The one we came down. I think it’s safe to say it wasn’t there before. I don’t think he’s crazy after all.”

 

Ellis immediately gets up to take Rochelle’s place behind Mike’s chair, staring wide-eyed at the camera feeds.

 

Nick is predictably less impressed. “What, YOU think the robots are alive now? Seriously?”

 

“Something’s out there!” she insists, bristling.

 

“Zombies,” he reminds her with a scowl.

 

Coach sighs. “Now don’t you two start fightin’, it’s been a long day.”

 

“Hit that button!” he shouts to Ellis. The hick doesn’t hesitate to bring the door slamming down, just as they hear foot steps come to the end of the hall.

 

Rochelle gives a scream when Mike turns on the light outside the doorway and an animatronic chicken is staring back at them with wide, dead eyes.

 

“Convinced?” Mike regards the cynic bitterly.

 

All four stare horrified at the blank eyes looking back at them through the window, Rochelle and Ellis both shrinking back from the door sealing them off from the abomination. Even with all the horrors they’ve experienced since the start of the infection, none of them were prepared for what is standing silently outside the office.

 

The silence is broken after what feels like an eternity as Nick sighs. “As if the zombies weren’t bad enough... So I guess ghosts and vampires are next, huh?”

 

“Ghosts, yes,” Mike says, turning the light off and waiting for the chicken to wander away before he opens the door.

 

“Why do you keep openin’ them doors if that’s the only thing that keeps ‘em out!” Ellis says frantically.

 

“I only have so much power,” Mike says irritably. “That generator is old and it’s on the fritz. I can barely keep it together with duct tape and dreams. It doesn’t suck in a lot of light, and I’ve gotta make it last the night. You already used up part of it when you turned the damn _lights_ on. When those doors are closed, they suck power.”

 

“And if the power runs out, they waltz in here and you’d have to wreck your zombie killers,” Nick says, glancing at the window where the chicken had been.

 

Rochelle turns to Mike with a frown. “So you just live like this? How do you get supplies? Why...” she pauses and takes in just how exhausted Mike looks. “Why don’t you just leave during the day when they’re inactive? There are safer places than this, you know.”

 

Mike shrugs. He looks back down at the screen and slams the door to the left of them closed just in time for the pounding to return.

 

“I know this place like clockwork,” he says. “I leave during the day for a couple hours to forage, patch up the solar panel, and then I have a few hours to sleep in peace. They aren’t active until it’s completely dark, anyway. It’s gonna be harder in the winter. Course, they might just freeze up in the winter. This place used to be heated. I doubt that’d work anymore, and even if it did, it’d suck power like a sponge.”

 

He sighs at the screens and reopens the door. “Care to do the honors of telling off the one to the right?” he gestures at the door and looks Nick in the eye. “They’re scared of people. If they know they’ve been spotted, they run. They prefer to sneak attack.”

 

Nick opens his mouth to question the absurdity of that statement, but gives up before words even form and simply shakes his head at just how ridiculous this apocalypse has become. “Yeah, fine. If that’s all it takes,” he grumbles.

 

Pausing for a moment, he peers out the doorway into the dingy hall, grimacing at what he sees. “It’s a purple fucking rabbit.”

 

“Bonnie,” Mike corrects him without looking away from the monitors.

 

“Of course.”

 

Nick meets the machine’s blank gaze and pushes aside any anxiety he would never admit to feeling, trying to pretend this isn’t some freakish monstrosity bent on killing anything it comes across. “Hey! Bonnie!”

 

The animatronic takes a stiff step backwards as its name is called, and if the situation wasn’t so horrifying Nick could almost laugh at how easy it is to startle the creature. “Yeah, you’re not hiding from anyone, you stick out like a sore thumb. Fuck off!” he snaps, jerking his chin towards the door behind Bonnie, and the rabbit slowly shuffles backwards into the darkness, its gaping eyes on the floor as though ashamed.

 

“That is some of the craziest shit I have ever seen,” Nick remarks as he pulls back into the room. “And that is saying something.”

 

“Story of my life,” Mike grunts. “If you think you’re getting any sleep tonight you’re wrong. Might be nice to be able to blink a couple times tonight, though. Think you can help me look at the screens, doe eyes?”

 

“Who, me?” Ellis says as he realizes he’s being addressed. “Well, heck, sure. It’s kinda like a video game ain’t it?”

 

He perches behind Mike and points out whenever he sees one of the robots shuffling around. Rochelle takes the other shoulder with interest, leaving Coach and Nick at the other end of the room. Coach starts to idly leaf through stacks of newspaper clippings and old photographs, while Nick takes the opportunity to lean against the wall and close his eyes, even if it’s just for a minute.


	2. Chapter 2

Hours pass, slowly and tensely, Rochelle and Ellis each man one of the doors and chase off the robots if they catch them down at the end of the hall. Coach reads up on the scattered history of the place that Mike compiled in a chronological stack, while Nick drifts in and out of sleep.

 

“Shit,” Mike hisses. “Shit, shit, shit, shit. You shouldn’t have turned those lights on. It’s fifteen minutes ‘til six and I’ve got 3% power. That isn’t gonna last us. That is _not_ going to last.”

 

“What happens at six?” Ellis yawns tiredly.

 

“They reset, they go back to the stage,” Mike says tensely, looking out the doors into the darkness. “If I can’t use these doors we’re toast, they can tell when the power runs out cause even the littlest lights go dark, and they know I’m vulnerable. Now that there’s five of us they’ll come at us especially quick.”

 

“Well... we have flashlights, could that help keep them back?” Rochelle offers anxiously, glancing from monitor to monitor.

 

“Otherwise we’ll _have_ to break these things,” Nick points out. “Doesn’t matter if they can kill zombies if they’re coming after us.”

 

“You can’t break them!” Mike shouts, jumping up to his feet for the first time that night. He’s much taller than Nick, and imposes his height over him. “Those stupid animals are all I have! You have each other, but I’ve been alone for _months_ and they’re all I have!”

 

For a minute the four simply stare at Mike, all startled by his sudden outburst. The tense silence seems to stretch on forever, until Nick shakes off his surprise and pushes away from where he had been flattened against the wall. “Then I guess you’d better hope flashlights’ll scare them off,” he sighs.

 

“If it comes down to it, a couple warning shots near ‘em might do the trick,” Coach adds, ready to put himself between the two if an argument escalates.

 

Rochelle’s eyes drift back to the monitors, and she tenses. “Two percent, guys,” she says quietly.

 

“Shit,” Mike’s hands are shaking as he jumps back in his chair with enough force to send it spinning and wheeling back a few inches. He grabs at the monitors and curses again. “They’re coming closer, dammit, they know. They can sense when the generators are low – damn it why don’t they lose power like the rest of the place?”

 

He exhales sharply and wheels his chair to the left side to tell off the approaching Freddy with a wavering shout.

 

Within minutes, the lights shut down. The hair on everyone’s necks prickle. Mike jams the light of his watch on with shaking fingers. “Seven minutes ‘till six,” he whispers.

 

The only sound in the room is the quavering breath of five frightened people. Foot steps plod slowly down the hall. A pair of eyes and a set of teeth light up in the door way, flashing in time to a distorted lullaby tune.

 

The song ends, and the last of the lights shut off, pitching everyone into completely blackness.

 

“SHIT!”

 

Ellis’ voice raises an octave and everyone jumps clear to the ceiling when he screams. “It’s got me!”

 

“Don’t struggle!” Mike shouts as he topples Freddy over onto his back. “They’re stronger than you! Just wait it out, they can’t get you to the back fast enough!”

 

“Wait it out?!” Ellis shrieks. He kicks wildly at the cold hand wrapped around his ankle as he’s dragged down the hall in the darkness.

 

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Nick shouts, turning on Mike. “That’s your plan?!”

 

“If we can’t shoot it, we can at least slow it down!” Rochelle insists before dashing down the hall after Ellis and his captor. Within seconds Nick is on her heels as Coach helps Mike keep Freddy from getting back to its feet, ignoring Mike’s frantic protests.

 

The two stumble to a halt in the doorway to the main dining room as they catch up to Ellis and the bib-wearing bird dragging him away, diving to seize Ellis’ wrists and slow his capture. Chica’s wide eyes snap up to stare accusingly at Rochelle and Nick, and the machine suddenly lets out a high-pitched shriek that nearly knocks them over from the sheer volume of it. It’s horribly distorted and mechanical, but there’s something that sounds bone-chillingly similar to a human scream that makes all three survivors’ blood run cold.

 

Mike suddenly appears out of thin air almost and swings something at Chica with a yell of “You can’t have him!”

 

“Quit pullin’ me!” Ellis screams at his companions.

 

There’s a crunch, and another scream, this one belongs to the Georgian as his ankle pops out of place in Chica’s iron grip. Mike throws out his instrument – a fire axe – to stop the pursuit of Ellis’ friends.

 

“Three minutes,” he gasps. “If you pull him again you’ll only injure him more, you have to just let him go!”

 

“And you’re sure it can’t do anything to him in three minutes?!” Rochelle rounds on Mike, stepping close to him with such a ferocious expression that she’s intimidating despite their comical height difference. “Because if anything happens to him, so help me I will dismantle all your stupid robots myself and then come for you!”

 

“Help!” they hear Coach shout, “It’s got me!”   
  
Mike lets out a stressed-sounding whine, clawing at his uniform cap. “They don’t carry the suits with them!” he gestures madly past the retreating figures. “The only one who moves fast is Foxy, and he won’t go anywhere while they’re around! They can’t make it to the back room in two minutes, just stay here and try not to get grabbed by Bonnie!”

 

Neither of the others seem happy with this answer, but Rochelle grudgingly takes a step back from Mike to look around for any sign of the mechanical rabbit.

 

Ellis’ screams of agony disappear farther into the darkness, along with Coach’s cries for help. Rochelle is bordering on hyperventilating, clutching Nick’s arm to keep herself grounded. Nick doesn’t even pull away, he feels sick hearing his team scream for help when a madman with an axe won’t let them pass

 

Just as the two of them are considering jumping on Mike and incapacitating him so they can go to the aid of their friends, Mike’s watch starts to beep. He heaves a huge sigh of relief and goes boneless against the wall.

 

Ellis and Coach’s cries immediately cease as the robot’s foot steps halt, and drop their captives in order to make their way back to the stage. Coach rushes into the main room to Ellis’ side, picking the younger man up in his arms no matter how badly it hurts his knee, and he carries him back down the hall, meeting Rochelle and Nick halfway.

 

“I think my ankle’s broke,” Ellis whines, clutching the knee of his hurting leg and closing his eyes against the pain.

 

“Oh sweetie,” Rochelle bites her lip and swings the medkit she’s been carrying off her back, not sure whether to be more upset with herself or Mike. She unzips the kit and starts looking through it as she follows the others back towards Mike’s office, Nick silently moving to help Coach carry Ellis the rest of the way.

 

She looks up at Mike again, her expression caught between anger and concern. “You’re really okay with living like this?”

 

He shrugs tiredly. “I’m used to it,” he nods. “You’re free to go now.”

 

“Go?” Ellis gives a holler of pain when Rochelle starts to take of his boot. “I can’t go anywhere like this! Hell, I’m like a lame dog ya’ll are just gonna have to take me out back and shoot me!”

 

“Don’t be a drama queen,” Nick hisses, “If anyone’s getting shot here, I’m pretty sure it’s not gonna be you.”

 

Rochelle frowns as she moves to trade places with Coach and help support Ellis, letting someone with more medical experience examine the hick’s ankle. “If it is broken, there’s no way we’ll be able to get you very far,” she says worriedly, giving Ellis’ shoulder a little squeeze in an attempt to make him feel better. “But we’re not about to leave you behind, _or_ shoot you.”

 

“You’re welcome to stay here,” Mike says as he rolls his chair forward for Ellis to sag into. “If you can take care of yourself and you don’t turn on any more lights. I’ve gotten very good at making the power last all night. This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t gone throwing switches you weren’t supposed to.”

 

“Are you really tryin’ to imply that this is _our_ fault?” Coach says with a dangerous edge to his voice.

 

“You think you woulda believed me if I hung a cardboard sign out front that said ‘DON’T TURN ON THE LIGHTS OR THE ROBOTS’LL GETCHA?’ ” Mike challenges, meeting the older man’s stare.

 

“There wouldn’t _be_ any robots if you weren’t so hell-bent on keeping them around,” Nick growls, leaning against the far wall.

 

“Do you have any idea what it’s like to be alone these days?” Mike’s voice raises a notch. “How long have you been traveling together? Couple weeks? Couple months? Long enough that you’d put yourselves in danger to save each other! Even now that everyone else is dead, you take that for granted! I’ve been alone for so long, if I didn’t have those robots I’da gone crazy! Their voices, those songs, that’s the only thing I ever hear! Running from them and fighting them, that’s the only interaction I ever get! Don’t pretend like you were going to invite me to come with you, get over yourselves!”

 

“That’s _enough,_ ” Coach warns, standing up and casting a piercing look at both Mike and Nick before their argument can continue. “It’s getting on towards sunup now, and if we’re gonna get Ellis back on his feet anytime soon, we can’t waste time picking fights with each other.”

 

He turns to Mike. “I get that you ain’t used to having company, but now you’ve got it, so we need to do our best to get along and help each other out. You said you go out scavenging during the day, right? We need to know where.”

 

Mike takes in a deep breath and releases the tension he was building inside him. “Yeah, I can do that. Someone’s gonna have to stay here and watch Elvis though.”

 

“Ellis,” the hick corrects with a scowl as Coach sits down and resumes wrapping his bruising ankle.

 

“I’ll stay,” Nick volunteers quickly. He doesn’t want to be alone with Mike right now. If he’s gonna dampen his temper, he needs some time apart from the man.

 

Within the hour, Mike is taking Rochelle and Coach out with him. He takes them to a nearby mall complex that’s mostly wiped out, but there are a couple places with rows of untouched canned goods. It’s a mystery why they were never looted… or at least, it is until they reach the food court.

 

The whole food court is a level below the rest of the shops, accessible by four escalators, two on either side. The escalators have been stripped of their stairs, so they’re nothing but slick mechanics that slide down, but don’t give any grips for a way back up. Down in that pit there are roughly a hundred zombies, both undead and regular dead, as well as at least five tanks.

 

“What the hell,” Rochelle whimpers, taking several steps back as quickly as she can.

 

“Lured them all down there myself,” Mike grunts. “One by one, like flies. Wasn’t easy. Almost broke an arm. But it’s worth it. Any folks that come through here get one look at that pit and take off running. So I get the whole place to myself. If you see any other zombies, try to lure them down there instead of shooting them straight off, okay?”

 

They load up enough food for the both of them, as well as a good stock of batteries for their flashlights, and fresh water. Coach finds a good set of golf clubs and brings them with him to use as weapons. Rochelle leaches the gas from a dozen lawn mowers that had been on display for demonstration, explaining that they always need gas for _something_ or other.

 

Mike finds a costume shop and instantly runs inside. When the others question him, he explains that he’s always on the lookout for something mascot-ish. If the humans don’t look like humans, the animals might not attack.

 

“For your friend,” he says, tucking a giant tiger mask under his arm. “He can’t run anymore.”

 

They find a couple more first aid kits, stick a couple rolls of duct tape on their wrists like bangles, load up on bullets and laser sights from a gun shop, and they’re ready to go.

 

They make it back around noon, to find Ellis fast asleep. He’s been moved from the chair against the wall near Nick, leaning sideways on the other man’s shoulders, covered by his white coat like a blanket. His ankle is pretty swollen, and Mike apologizes for having no way to put ice on it.

 

The group keeps quiet for a while and sorts out their loot from the mall, not wanting to wake the injured Ellis any earlier than they have to. Some of the tension from earlier is still present, but a lot of the hostility has dispersed for the moment, at least as long as everyone has something else to focus on.

 

Eventually Nick turns his head as Ellis makes a small sound and stirs, the hick blinking blearily back into consciousness. “Oh finally,” Nick sighs and shrugs his shoulder to get Ellis to sit up. “My shoulder’s killing me, scoot over.”

 

“How’re you feeling, sweetie?” Rochelle asks from where she’s perched on the edge of Mike’s desk.

 

“Sore,” Ellis groans. “Anybody got pills?”

 

Nick fishes out a bottle of pain killers and gives the kid a few while Coach insists Ellis drinks the whole bottle of water he hands him.


	3. Chapter 3

The second night is harder. Everyone is even more exhausted, it being particularly hard to sleep in a building with known robot killers. At some point, Mike stalks off to remove all of the robots arms and hides them, explaining that the better he hides them, the longer it takes for them to find them and put them on, and the more peace he has at night. He has to find a new place to hide them every night, because they always search his previous hiding places first.

 

They barely talk the second night. Rochelle and Coach help Mike with the doors and the lights after the robots find their arms within an hour and a half. The only time they communicate is when Rochelle and Nick switch spots looking after Ellis, who has started to get feverish.

 

“Shock,” Mike says blandly after the second time Ellis has abruptly lost consciousness in Rochelle’s arms. “His ankle could be bleeding on the inside. He might lose it if it’s really badly broken.”

 

“Don’t gimme too much sympathy now,” Ellis slurs tiredly upon waking up hearing his fate being decided. “I might go soft.”

 

"Let's not assume the worst just yet," Coach remarks. "None of use have the training to say for sure what'll happen."

 

"We'll get you through this, okay?" Rochelle says quietly to Ellis, taking off his hat to pet his hair reassuringly. "You just relax."

 

Nick leans on the back of Mike's chair and continues to glance between the monitors, and one would almost think he hadn't heard any of the conversation if not for how tight his grip on the chair has become. Chica is standing right in front of the restroom camera, but the others seem to be fairly quiet for the moment, making him almost willing to leave Mike to watch the cameras and try to doze a little.

 

Before he can move away however, he freezes, tensing visibly as his eyes fall on the Pirate's Cove camera. The alwayss-closed curtain has been parted slightly, and a pair of wild eyes is staring back at the camera. "Shit," he breathes, "Mike... What the hell is that one?"

 

“Foxy,” Mike says bitterly. “He’s the only one who ever pounds on the door. He’s also the only one who doesn’t stop when he knows he’s being watched as soon as he starts moving. The others have this idea that if they stop moving when you’re looking at them, you can’t see them. Not Foxy.”

 

He taps the eyes on the screen. “Once he gets moving, there’s no stopping him. He tries to get in here, and if it doesn’t work right away, he runs back behind his curtain. He’s got a really sharp hook. Avoid him at all costs.”

 

"Foxy..." Rochelle muses, frowning thoughtfully. "Didn't you say something about him last night? That he's faster than the others?"

 

"Guess we're lucky he didn't come along with the others then, or we'd have been done for," Coach says grimly, getting up to look over Nick's shoulder at the machine peeking out from behind the curtain.

 

“It’s not luck,” Mike laughs humorlessly. “There’s a reason Foxy’s behind that curtain. That whole area was under reconstruction before the shit met the fan. Part of his skeleton is visible. If the others see him, they’ll view him unfinished and try to ‘fix’ him, destroying him in the process. They’re smarter than you think they are.”

 

“Oh great, that’s all we need,” Nick grumbles, shaking his head and turning away from the monitors.

 

The next few hours pass without much incident, though Ellis continues to drift in and out of consciousness. Mike explains that because it’s still fairly early in the week, the animatronics aren’t as active, as for some reason they only get really bad closer to the weekend. The way he says it makes it seem like he’s trying to be reassuring, but he only manages to make the others more anxious about what horrors the next few nights will bring.

 

When Mike’s watch reads 5am, however, the guard breaks the silence with a dry chuckle. “Anyone wanna see a bloodbath?” he asks without taking his eyes off the monitors, nodding at the camera in the main dining area.

 

A lone Infected has stumbled in through the door, oblivious to the danger looming in the dark as it trudges between the long tables spanning the main room. No one needs to guess what’s going to happen to it, they just silently draw closer or turn away as they wait to see first-hand what these machines are capable of.

 

“I can’t see right, I wanna see,” Ellis complains from the floor. Mike lifts the younger man up by his armpits to give him a better view of the screens, holding him up by the waist.

 

The infected didn’t have a chance. Freddy, Bonnie and Chica descend on it like flies, dragging the snarling and kicking zombie through the halls into the back room. They open the mouth of one of the older animatronics, a discarded horse, and try to shove the zombie inside.

 

What results is a putrid mess of blood and viscera, splashing across the floor as the infected is pushed in through the mouth and shredded. It’s almost like it’s being put through a sieve, fishing out all the meaty parts so the bones can be crushed into the suit, which is already lopsided, probably from having more than one occupant being forced inside.

 

Ellis groans queasily. “Man, I did not wanna see that, why’d you let me see that.”

 

Nick sighs and grimaces at the screen. “We are _fucked,_ ” he sighs before stepping away from the monitors with a shake of his head.

 

“I just… I don’t get why they would even be programmed to _do_ that, why are they like this?” Rochelle murmurs, fidgeting uncomfortably.

 

“They aren’t _programmed_ to do anything, that’s just the bullshit they fed me when I started working here to keep me from digging,” Mike sorts through the stack of newspaper clippings and other assorted papers, mumbling to himself. “Dammit – hit that button would you?”

 

Rochelle brings the left door down while Mike finally produces the paper he was looking for, a halfway redacted company file.

 

“Few years back some kids were killed in the back of this place,” he says, holding the paper up to the light so he can read through the blacked out parts. “By some pedophile who worked here. Stashed their bodies in pieces in the suits. This place covered the whole thing up, including the rumors that part of the bodies were chucked into the meat they put on the pizza.”

 

“ _What?!_ ” Rochelle stares dubiously at Mike for a moment before rushing to his side to get a better look at the paper he’s holding to the light. “And they managed to keep this hidden?” she questions, eyes scanning the page with a deep frown.

 

“Okay, so that’s nice,” Nick remarks sarcastically from across the room, where he has resumed duty as Ellis’ human pillow. “What does that have to do with the robots?”

 

“My best guess is haunted,” Mike perches back in his seat and observes the robots slowly making their way back through the main room. “Trying to get revenge on the guy who killed them. That guy’s probably a zombie by now anyway so justice has been served, but they’re just kids, they don’t know that. They just want to hurt people like they were hurt.”

 

He clears his throat when he sees the way the others are looking at him. “I mean this is all just speculation. You leave a guy alone in a place with living robots and his thoughts for a few months and this is what you get.”

 

An awkward silence hangs in the air for a few seconds, before Coach chuckles humorlessly and shrugs. “Well shoot, makes about as much sense as anythin’ else that’s going on. Could be it _is_ ghosts haunting those things for all we know.”

 

“Whu’s ghosts?” Ellis mumbles sleepily, waking up to the tail end of the conversation.

 

Nick scoffs. “Just the ghosts of some murdered kids controlling the crazy robots trying to kill us,” he says dryly. “Go back to sleep.”

 

Morning comes soundlessly to the five exhausted survivors. Rochelle and Coach instantly collapse on either side of Ellis for a couple hours while Mike curls up in his chair and Nick takes an empty corner.

 

Around noon they’re awoken by Ellis’ moanings. They try to wake him, but he’s barely lucid.

 

“He’s burning up,” Coach tells the others after sticking his hand in the crook of the young man’s arm to check his temperature. “He’s probably got an infection in that ankle of his. We gotta get him some penicillin or he ain’t gonna make it.”

 

“Where the hell are we going to find penicillin?” Nick’s voice clenches with worry.

 

“We passed a drug store. About a mile back,” Rochelle says cautiously, lifting a water bottle to the feverish hick and encourages him to take a few swallows. “But there’s no way Ellis can get there, and no guarantee there will be any antibiotics left.”

 

“I’ll stay here and watch him,” Mike says, stretching a kink out of his neck. “You three get there and back as soon as possible.”

 

“All three of us?” Rochelle echoes with a frown. “Don’t you-”

 

Mike cuts her off, “You’re going to need as much cover as possible if you’re taking a two mile walk through zombie country. It’s pretty easy to forget that zombies are dangerous when you’re faced with sentient robots.”

 

Rochelle and Nick both instinctively glance at Coach and find him frowning thoughtfully with his arms crossed.

 

“Well… I guess there’s nothing for it. We do this or Ellis don’t stand a chance,” he says grimly, then levels a pointed stare at Mike. “You sure you can take care of him alright? You could come with us and have one of us stay here if you’re not.”

 

“I’ll be fine, I know this place better than you do,” Mike says as he picks up a metal mop handle that he has been apparently whittling into a spear for quite some time. He flicks out a pocket knife and starts to shave small strips of metal near the point.

 

It’s not much of a protection against robots, but the point will do damage to any zombies that might wander in. Convinced that their friend will be at least moderately well protected, the rest of the group suits up and heads out within the hour.

 

Mike hasn’t been responsible for another person in quite some time. It’s almost jarring, looking up from whatever he’s occupied his mind with to see another human in the room. It was different with a group of them, they were all taking care of one another. But he’s directly accountable for this kid’s life.

 

He looks young. Stupid young, way too young to be dealing with this shit. The rest of group look like they’re in their thirties at least, that Coach guy looks like he’s at least fifty. This kid barely looks old enough to drink, let alone fight zombies day in and day out.

 

Mike tries to remember what he was up to when he was that young. He didn’t go to college, he barely graduated high school, hence the back-ass job he wound up in. He was probably getting stoned the majority of the time with whatever deadbeat friends he had, and watching shitty TV.

 

He wonders what this kid was doing before the Green Flu- if his hat and coveralls are any indication, he probably had a pretty decent job either working a tow truck or some construction equipment. And he’s handsome, too, way more good looking than Mike was at his age. He probably had a girlfriend – hell, kids these days have kids of their own so young, he might have had a whole family.

 

He’s jarred out of speculating details about a stranger’s life when the kid groans awake. He clutches his homemade spear as if Ellis might start attacking him, when he can barely push himself sitting upright against the wall.

 

Ellis blinks and looks around dizzily, grinding his hands into his eyes with a moan. “Where is everyone?” he asks Mike in a dried-up voice.

 

“Off saving your life,” Mike answers bluntly, relaxing back into his whittling. “That ankle’s probably infected, so they’re looking for something to fix it. Checking out a drugstore.” His eyes are back on his work now, nearly as intent on his spear as he is on watching the monitors at night, explaining the situation to Ellis without feeling the need to make eye contact.

 

Ellis grimaces and pulls gently at his pant leg, lifting it to expose his foot. It’s pretty seriously bruised, yellow and black and purple down his foot and halfway up his calf. He groans and drops the fabric to lean up against the wall with a sigh.

 

“Shoot, this is the last thing we need right now,” he scrubs his face with his hand, trying to shake the last of the exhaustion and fatigue out of his system. “Can you help me up? I could really go for some fresh air and sunlight right about now.”

 

The absurdity of the request actually makes Mike look up from his whittling, and he fixes Ellis with a stare that clearly shows he’s questioning the hick’s sanity. He starts to speak several times, but stops within a single syllable and reverts to staring from Ellis’ face to his injured leg and back again, making vague hand gestures to help him find words. Eventually he sighs and lowers his head to rub at his temples for a minute.

 

“Okay, first thing,” he remarks, pointing one hand at Ellis with his head still ducked, “You’re half dead and you want to go prancing around with a fucked up ankle.”

 

He looks up. “Two, the robots keep ‘em outta here, but there _are_ still zombies running around outside. And to put those together, even if we did manage to hobble out there, we might as well pop apples in our mouths ‘cause we’d be chow in minutes.” He shakes his head and picks up his spear again, waggling it scoldingly towards Ellis. “I told the rest of them I’d keep you in one piece, and I’m not about to try explaining to that chick how I let you get mauled by the undead.”

 

Ellis frowns. “Well, I’ve been in here for a couple days now, it’s dark and smelly and I’m startin’ to go stir crazy. You might be happy to sit inside for days and days but I’m just as solar powered as the rest’a this place. If you ain’t gonna help me I’ll hobble my own butt outside.”

 

He struggles with the wall, groaning queasily, and avoids putting pressure on his ankle as he wobbles to a stand.

 

Mike groans. “What part of ‘there are zombies outside’ are you not hearing, kid? You think you can take them like this?”

 

“Uh, how ‘bout the part where I got one helluva resume fightin’ the undead?” Ellis gives a short laugh as he tries to balance himself on one foot before falling back against the wall.

 

Mike grimaces down at the spear in his hands. “You may have been running around shooting up the infected day in and day out, but I haven’t. I’ve been using the psychos in here and setting traps for the bastards, so if you think I’d be able to blow them away for you, you’re wrong. I’d probably end up shooting one of us instead.”

 

“Lucky for you, I don’t shoot with my ankle,” Ellis says brightly, unholstering a pistol from his hip and brandishing it with his right hand.

 

Mike looks up again and sighs at the way Ellis is wobbling just from trying to stay standing, and pushes himself out of his chair with a scowl. “Jesus, you’re gonna fall and crack your skull open. Don’t try to walk.”

 

“Well then help me,” Ellis sticks his arm out with a smile, offering it to Mike to hold. “I bet you could use some sun, too. You look like one’a them zombies, you’re so pale.”

 

Mike hesitates, weighing pros and cons in his head. He has to admit that staying in his cramped little office probably isn’t doing much to help the healing process, but taking an injured man outside for a leisurely stroll in the zombie apocalypse sounds like a stupid idea no matter how he looks at it.

 

“You’ve been running a hell of a fever; can you even shoot straight right now?” he asks with a raised eyebrow. He’s getting the sinking feeling that Ellis isn’t going to give up and sit back down any time soon, and he can’t exactly force the kid to stay inside, but damn him if he won’t come up with as many arguments for staying put as he can.

 

“I got more’n enough ammo on me to afford a few wide-shots,” Ellis’s smile doesn’t slip for an instant. He lurches off the wall, giving Mike no choice but to rush forward and catch him before he falls over. “Ain’t like I’m talkin’ about walkin’ a mile, I just wanna go sit outside in the sunshine.”

 

“Is it even sunny out?” Mike grumbles, but reluctantly situates himself with Ellis’ arm over his shoulders. “You’re stubborn as hell, you know that?” Despite the insult, the cranky edge in Mike’s voice has softened somewhat, and the scowl he shoots sidelong at Ellis is more amused than it is genuinely angry.

 

“Yes sir, I rightly do,” Ellis beams as Mike wraps an arm around his waist. With his bad ankle sandwiched between them, they work together to hobble out through the hallways and through the main room.

 

Ellis shudders as he spots the robots perched on the stage joyfully, eternally waiting for the next day to bring kids pouring through the doors celebrating their birthdays. He grimaces at them, but doesn’t have long to stare before the door is pushed open and they hobble out into the sunshine.


	4. Chapter 4

“Is that Ellis?” Rochelle squints and throws a hand over her eyes. “ _Outside?_ ”

 

Nick shields his eyes from the sun and makes a disgruntled noise. Ellis has just come into view, perched on the hood of an old car in the parking lot, his legs dangling. Mike is standing a few feet away, and they’re tossing what looks like a duct tape ball back and forth.

 

“Jesus Christ, he _is_ outside,” Nick mutters, shifting his heavy plastic bag from one hand to the other to let the blood flow back into his left fingers. “Here we are sticking our necks out for medicine for this dork and he’s playing catch with the loony.”

 

“Lay off him,” Coach says good-humoredly, nudging Nick’s shoulder with his elbow. “This is a good sign. If he’s up and around, it means he ain’t dying.”

 

Ellis waves to the group when he sees them through the shimmering heat waves in the distance. As they draw closer, they see that Ellis and Mike appear to have switched hats. The trucker cap with the tow truck on it is fixed over Mike’s head, and his navy blue cap with the “security” tag across the front is tucked over Ellis’ curls.

 

“You guys made it okay,” Ellis smiles at them. He looks tired, but happy, and a little sunburnt. They’re surprised to see Mike actively _smiling_. “You got the medicine and stuff?”

 

“Well, we grabbed whatever we could find, so hopefully somethin’ here’ll work for you,” Coach looks between Ellis and Mike, chuckling. “I see you’ve been getting along just fine.”

 

“How’s your fever?” Rochelle asks, stepping forward and standing on her tiptoes to place a hand on Ellis’ forehead.

 

“Up and down,” Ellis shrugs. “Bein’ outside’s done me a world of good, though. And Mike keeps reminding me to stay nice and hydrated.” He picks up a half-empty water bottle from beside him and shakes it for emphasis. Rochelle notes the three empty water bottles by her feet.

 

“I might start coming outside more often,” Mike gives a sheepish laugh as he tosses the duct tape ball in the air and catches it. “I’ve been so accustomed to hiding in my office that I forgot how nice the sun feels. Did you know how great a shot this kid is?”

 

Ellis beams proudly, his eyes crinkling. “Aw, shucks, I miss half the time anyway.”

 

“And do you know how much _I’d_ miss if it were me shooting?” Mike snorts with a grin.

 

Rochelle turns to regard Mike with surprise and a short laugh. “Well I don’t know which one of you this sunshine’s done more good for, I didn’t even know you _could_ smile,” she teases as Coach approaches the car.

 

“Alright alright, we’d best not push our luck too far,” he says, offering Ellis his shoulder to help the hick climb down off the car. “Let’s get you back inside and get these meds in you, boy.”

 

Nick watches sourly from a distance as Mike steps to take Ellis’ other side. He hobbles back inside with their help, Rochelle talking animatedly with Mike on the other side of him, and the door swings shut behind them with Nick staring numbly after them outside.

 

“Right, I’ll just carry the shit then,” he mutters at the bag that Rochelle left sitting next to the one Nick put down.

 

After dumping the bags in the office, he props the front door open and spends the majority of the afternoon in the main room watching the sunlight wane and working his way anxiously through half a pack of cigarettes he found. By the time he snubs the last one out with his shoe and makes his way back to the office, he can hear singing.

 

“—back to my hooome, I dare not gooo-”

 

“For If I dooo, my mother will saaay- take it away, Mike!”

 

“Uhh- have you ever seen a zombie shopping at Abercrombie-”

 

“Down by the bay!”

 

For a minute Nick seriously considers just waiting out in the hall for the robots to come kill him.

 

Grimacing, he shuts his eyes and tries in vain to pretend this isn’t happening, lifting his head again once the singing has ended in a burst of laughter and good-natured teasing.

 

How is it even possible that someone as refreshingly cranky and anti-social as Mike could be transformed into _this_ after one afternoon alone with Ellis? What is it about the stupid kid that can put absolutely anyone at ease like that? He even has to admit that the infectious cheerfulness gets to him sometimes, but the way Ellis has gotten Mike to open up so quickly just pisses him off.

 

Eventually Nick bites the bullet and forces himself to enter the office, hands stuffed in his pockets and refusing to look anyone in the eye as he makes for a corner as far away from the others as possible.

 

“Ey, Nick!” Ellis beams at his companion. “Can you believe Mike never heard that song before? Man, I thought _every_ kid knew that song!”

 

“My upbringing was a lot more boring than yours, apparently,” Mike gives a short chuckle, effectively bringing Ellis’ attention back to him before Nick can even reply. “I would’ve given anything to have grown up with friends like yours.”

 

“Don’t even say that,” Ellis laughs. “We got into trouble _so often_. If Paul weren’t there to bail us out half the time, Dave, Keith and I woulda wound up in jail for life by the time we were like, 12!”

 

“I’d believe it, the way you act now,” Coach chuckles. “I can only imagine the hell your poor teachers must’ve gone through.”

 

Nick settles against the wall and grimaces, some of the annoyance leaving his expression as he realizes he has no idea who Paul and Dave are. For a second he almost asks, but instantly bites the question back and reminds himself that he doesn’t care, instead glancing around the room in a vain attempt to find something else to pay attention to. At this rate he’s fairly certain he’s going to go insane by midnight, leaning his head back against the wall with a soft thump.

 

Mike’s mood slowly descends as the night wears on. He doesn’t laugh as long at Ellis’ stories, and he smiles less. By the time the robots are on the prowl again, all traces of the happiness he displayed earlier are gone. For some reason, this gives Nick a little jolt of glee. It’s nice, knowing that people can’t be suddenly and ineffably changed by spending time with Ellis. He knows it shouldn’t bring him joy to watch a man’s gleeful spirit slowly wither and die, but he can’t help himself.

 

They work together like the previous two nights keeping one another safe. They take turns manning door and light buttons, watching the monitors with Mike, and tending to Ellis’ needs. If Nick is more sour than night than usual, none of them can tell.

 

Foxy seems unusually active tonight. He’s already bolted out from his curtain four times, and it’s barely two AM. Mike remarks that it’s strange that he would risk being seen by the others so often, but the others don’t seem to care beyond keeping themselves safe.

 

“This is starting to get weird,” Mike hums anxiously after the sixth attempt to get into the room in as many minutes. He looks at his watch. “It’s only two thirty. He’s never been this active before.”

 

“You two do something to piss him off?” Nick asks and frowns at Ellis.

 

“I don’t even know if they’re conscious during the day!” Mike snaps, his temper clearly fraying with anxiety.

 

“So we’ll just have to be extra careful, it’s okay,” Rochelle pats Mike’s shoulder from behind his chair, but her reassuring smile fades as she looks at the monitors. “Bonnie’s moved again.”

 

“I told you they get more active as the week goes on,” Mike brings the door on the left down to keep Freddy out. “And it’s only Thursday. Tomorrow night is always the worst.”

 

“Has it been any easier with us here?” Rochelle asks, smiling and rubbing her hand comfortingly over Mike’s arm.

 

Mike sighs and releases some of his tension with a nod. “Yes, it has, actually. I’m not looking forward to when you leave.”

 

“You could come with us,” Ellis says without skipping a beat. “You don’t need four robots to keep them zombies away if you got four friends.”

 

Mike looks startled as he turns to Ellis, his expression dancing from surprise to relief to anxiety and back again as he struggles to think of what to say. In all honesty, he doesn’t know if he _wants_ to leave, even though he knows he’ll eventually be torn to pieces inside an animal suit if he stays. He’s just gotten so used to the company of the homicidal machines that drove him to hallucinating within a week of his working with them, even before the Infection. He doesn’t know if he could bear to leave them behind.

 

Before he can find words, Rochelle draws his attention back to the monitors. “Foxy’s coming out again,” she frowns. “And Bonnie’s in the hall now, heads up guys.”

 

“Bonnie’s in the- which hall?” Mike grabs frantically for the monitors. What he sees makes his stomach drop. He scrambles for the doorway. “Foxy, no! I see you!”

 

It doesn’t stop the speedy animatronic’s march. Mike’s heart takes a leap into his throat as he watches Bonnie turn to look behind her. Foxy skids to a halt a few feet away from her, frozen on the spot.

 

“Foxy, run!” Mike screams from the door.

 

Bonnie points at the fox and opens her mouth with a long, slow screech. Ice ripples up Mike’s spine and he grabs desperately for his fire axe. “We’ve gotta help him!” he shouts to the others.

 

Foxy’s jaw bites slowly at the air as an all-too-familiar laugh echoes down the hall, signaling the approach of Freddy himself from somewhere in the darkness. Bonnie continues to point accusingly at Foxy even after her shriek fades, her blank eyes fixed on him and the shredded outer suit hanging around his metal legs.

 

“Have you lost your mind?!” Coach seizes Mike’s arm as the guard makes for the door, watching as Chica slowly makes her way into the hall. “We go out there, they’re gonna come for us too!”

 

“Even if they do trash the fast one, there’s still three left to take care of the zombies. You don’t have to get yourself killed over one of them,” Nick adds, moving behind Mike in case Coach needs help restraining him.

 

The whole group tenses as music fills the air, and sure enough, when Rochelle rushes back to the monitors, a glowing set of eyes and teeth have appeared down the hall just behind the paralyzed Foxy.

 

“No!” Mike roars and pulls his arm out of Coach’s grip just as the animals descend on the fox. He charges down the hall with his axe extended, his heart pounding in his throat. He’s filled with the singular desire to help the fallen fox, to protect him. They’ve been trying to kill him for months, but at the same time they’ve been his ultimate protectors and his only companions. He realized a long time ago he went totally Stockholm, but that doesn’t matter as long as it keeps him alive.

 

Maybe a psychologist would have told him that lingering feelings of being ganged up on by bullies during his school years are a large part of what drives his desperate need to protect Foxy. He probably wouldn’t have listened to the shrink anyway.

 

He swings his axe with a scream. The animatronics are clearly well beyond startled at the prospect of being chased down for the first time. Freddy jumps back with a distorted yelp, and Chica almost falls over backwards. Bonnie has to swing her weight to the side to avoid being sliced by the incoming axe as Mike single-handedly fights the robots off of Foxy.

 

Before any of the machines have time to properly react to Mike, Rochelle skids to a halt on the other side of the collapsed Foxy, one of the golf clubs Coach took from the mall clutched in her hands. “You are insane!” she shouts at Mike as she swings the club within inches of Freddy’s face.

 

Foxy slowly starts to rise, head jerking between the two humans, when Bonnie spots his movement and charges for a gap between Mike and Rochelle, shrieking. But before she can reach him, a loud bang pierces the cacophony of the animatronic creatures, and the rabbit veers into the wall with a clean bullet hole through her right ear.

 

The animatronics all freeze as she screams again, confused and distressed. Behind her, by the door to the security office, the pistol in Nick’s hand is still trained on her as she struggles to process what’s happened.

 

“Want another to match?”

 

Chica and Bonnie scramble away running. Freddy continues to stand at the end of the hall, and even though his face is incapable of expressing, Mike swears he sees murder in his eyes. Slowly, he turns and walks away.

 

Foxy is still halfway up halfway down, clearly unsure of whether to run or continue his previous pursuit of trying to get after the humans. For the first time, Nick really starts to believe that maybe these robots really are haunted. If it was truly programming causing them to do this messed-up shit, they wouldn’t have a drive to self-preserve, and they definitely wouldn’t take the time to contemplate while lying on the floor.

 

“Get back in your curtain!” Mike shouts, pointing over Foxy’s head. “And don’t let me catch you fighting with the other kids again!”

 

Foxy looks up at him, jaw hanging agape. There is a tense silence for several seconds as Mike and the fox stare at each other, the guard’s eyes narrowed and stern as they meet Foxy’s vacant stare. Then, in a flash, Foxy lunges forward and Mike has to jump back to avoid being bitten by his jagged teeth. Rochelle moves forward with her golf club raised, but Foxy has already vanished back into the darkness, hopefully returning to Pirates Cove for the rest of the night.

 

“I’ll say it again,” Rochelle shakes her head in relief, “You are _insane._ ”

 

Mike collapses sideways against the wall, his legs turning into jello. He’s panting and shaking, and Rochelle helps him back into his office chair. He hangs his head in his hands, leaving the monitor watching to the rest, but the robots are clearly shaken up enough that they aren’t approaching again any time soon.

 

He can’t believe how worked up he got over the life of a robot. It’s not even a life, really. Probably. He’s still shaking. The fear he felt was so incredible, worse even than his first-ever night on the job when he realized what he was getting into. The idea of losing one of these animals after spending so much time with them- he knocks Ellis’ cap off his head to scrub at his hair and clear his thoughts.

 

"Well, that could've ended a lot worse," Rochelle sighs as she leans the golf club against the wall. "Everyone made it out in one piece. Or mostly, anyway." She smiles and nudges Nick as he passes.

 

"You gonna be okay?" Coach asks Mike warily, helping Ellis sit back down after having hauled him up to see what was going on via the monitors.

 

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” Mike pulls slightly at his hair to try and ground himself with the sting. “I’m a little freaked out right now, I felt like if that thing died I was gonna die with it I was scared, shit.”

 

"Well you've been here a long time with 'em, and you said you've gotten attached to them..." Ellis trails off nervously.

 

Rochelle nods in agreement and approaches Mike's chair. "If you couldn't stand to kill them yourself, then why would you be comfortable watching them destroy each other? They really are... sentient, crazy as it is, and if they're all you've had for so long, then it makes sense you'd be freaked out."

 

“You don’t think I’m a complete Lunatic?” Mike asks, looking up at her, and then Ellis, and then Coach. He doesn’t look at Nick.

 

"Well you're definitely not seeing things, since we've all seen 'em too," Coach sighs tiredly. "How can we call you mad when we've been helping keep them back the past few days?"

 

"People thought the idea of an outbreak like the Green Flu was crazy, too. And here we are," Rochelle gives a wry smile and shakes her head.

 

Ellis chuckles. "Besides, I could tell you some of the stuff that's happened to us since the Infection, and I bet you'd think I'm nuts. Everything's crazy right now," he glances at Nick, who is silent, and his smile slips a little.

 

Mike smiles at the group shakily. Rochelle suggests that he gets some shut eye after that emotionally traumatic experience, and while he argues it at first, she and Coach together seem competent enough to work the doors, despite the fact that the robots haven’t moved since they left the hallway. He winds up being Ellis’ pillow for the rest of the night so he can in turn lean sideways against Ellis.


	5. Chapter 5

“Come on, El. Just a few more steps.”

 

“I’m _exhausted_ Mike, gimme a break.”

 

Mike has his arms outstretched in the parking lot. They’ve been practicing Ellis walking on his ankle for several days now, just a few steps at a time. Ellis is leaned over sideways on the hood of a car, panting as pain spikes up his leg.

 

When they found out that his ankle was dislocated rather than broken (thank God for Coach and high school injuries) it wasn’t too hard to get it back into place. But it had been out of place for so many days that the bruising and swelling got bad enough to make walking a hassle to begin with. After a hellish Friday night and a pretty calm weekend overall, the survivors made the decision to stick around at least until Ellis was limping normally.

 

“Come on, ten more steps,” Mike wiggles his fingers to try and encourage the younger man to walk into his arms for support. Ellis heaves a sigh and pushes off the hood of the car to make his way towards his newfound best friend.

 

Rochelle leans against an overturned bus nearby, shaking bits of zombie off the fire axe she's using to help ward off any infected that wander into the parking lot. "C'mon, just this little bit more and you can go back inside, okay?" She calls as she scans the rooftops for any signs of Smokers or Hunters.

 

Coach and Nick are over in the shade of Freddy's itself, watching both for zombies and Ellis' progress. "He's definitely getting better," Coach remarks with a pleased nod.

 

"And what about when he _is_ better?” Coach gives Nick a questioning look. "Mike. You gonna ask him to come?" Nick continues to watch Ellis stumble forward.

 

"After everything he's done, I see no reason not to," Coach replies calmly.

 

Nick sighs. "You think he'd want to go?"

 

"That I don't know," Coach shrugs. "We'll have to wait and see how things go down. Don't worry about it just yet."

 

Nick is worrying. He has been worrying for days. The way Ellis and Mike have gotten so chummy is distressing, there’s no other word for it. He doesn’t get why Ellis likes him so goddamn much, he’s a prick half the time and too cheerful for his own good the other half.

 

He knows why. Mike is kind of like him, mocking and spiteful - and Ellis is always going on about how much he likes Nick - but the difference is he actually _listens_ to Ellis. He listens to the kid’s dumb stories and actually laughs with him. He’s just baiting him, Nick’s sure. He probably wants something out of Ellis, and the kid’s too naïve not to give it to him. Nick tells himself he’s just protecting his own when he feels a hot wave of jealousy ripple through him whenever Ellis stumbles grinning into Mike’s open arms.

 

He’s gotta protect the dumbass. He’ll follow Mike right into a manhole cover, the stupid puppy. He’s gotta remind Ellis where his loyalties lie; with his group he’s been with for – Jesus, like three months now? He’s gotta take drastic measures.

 

“Uh, hey – ” he clears his throat awkwardly. “Hey, Ellis. I could uhh… take over. For Mike, I mean.”

 

Ellis wobbles on one foot and looks over his shoulder. “Beg pardon?” he asks, holding his arms out like an airplane to keep from toppling over.

 

"I mean..." Nick hesitates and looks around the parking lot; half hoping some zombies will appear and take everyone's attention. "If Mike has other stuff he has to do, I... could switch with him. Taking care of you and shit."

 

He inwardly curses his own stupid words the second he says them, painfully aware of how hard he's forcing this. It's not that he doesn't know how to play nice; he's just fallen out of practice and hasn't bothered with Ellis before, so it's harder. That's all. That must be all.

 

“Other stuff to do? What, you mean my day job?” Mike steps forward and catches Ellis by the waist as he teeters.

 

“Actually Mike could use some practice killing zombies,” Rochelle says with a smile, and taps the watchman’s shoulder with the handle of her axe. “Why don’t you take this and go swing a few heads off? I’ll take Ellis off your hands.”

 

Mike sighs and shrugs. The others have been trying to get him accustomed to killing zombies with his own two hands. He prefers Ellis duty to zombie killing, but he knows if he’s ever going to go with them like Ellis suggested, he’s going to need to at least pull his own weight with some blunt instrument if a zombie wanders too close.

 

Ellis is still looking curiously back over his shoulder at Nick as the gambler sinks back down into his seat with a grunt. He finally looks forward again after Rochelle starts to help him hobble to a car at the other end of the lot. He can just catch the beginning of their conversation,

 

“That was weird…”

 

“What was, sweetie?”

 

“Nick. He ain’t never been nice like that before– ” But then they’re out of earshot.

 

Coach raises an eyebrow as Nick's scowl deepens, waiting until Rochelle and Ellis are even further away before glancing sidelong at the gambler.

 

"Y'know, he's right." Coach gives the gambler a half-smile. "That _was_ weird."

 

"Okay, you can..." Nick cuts himself off with a frustrated growl, and almost gets up to walk away before Coach raises a hand in a placating gesture.

 

"Calm down, I don't need to know. Whatever's going on, just don't let it get out of hand, alright?" Nick gives an irritable grunt.

 

Nick catches Ellis staring at him sometimes for the rest of the day. He doesn’t ever look away quick if Nick sees him looking at him, he just keeps on staring at him until Nick gets uncomfortable and has to look away.

 

The more days they stay here, the more comfortable Ellis gets with Mike. He spends more time with him, shares more stories with him, leans on him when he needs a helping hand. He laughs with him and jokes with him and sometimes when they’re alone in the parking lot, he gets serious with him.

 

“Sometimes I worry that my family ain’t okay no more,” he’d confided in Mike while the others were on a supply run. He started to cry, he couldn’t help it. He expected Mike to tell him to quit crying, to buck up, be a man. He expected him to react like Nick. Instead he got a tight, warm hug that lasted for hours, it felt like, and Mike promised him that he’s not alone.

 

“As long as you’re a walking ray of sunshine, as long as you’re _you_ people will gravitate towards you. You’re never going to be alone, even if you never see your family again, you’ll find a new one. People need people like you.”

 

Ellis only cried harder and held him tighter, and sobbed and laughed, “I can’t walk, though.” He didn’t tell anyone else that he’d shared that moment with Mike. And he can tell Mike hasn’t told anyone, either. After growing up with five sisters, he always wanted a brother.

 

As Ellis continues to work on his walking, the others continue taking Mike out to acclimate him with shooting the Infected. No one has outright said it’s because they plan to take him with them when they leave —Mike clearly still has some issues to work out with the animatronic creatures— but the thought is on everyone’s mind as they show him the basics of zombie killing.

 

Rochelle fails to suppress a laugh as Mike is nearly knocked to the ground by the recoil from the shotgun he’s practicing with. “Okay, so don’t stand like that when firing,” she glances at the zombie whose blood is now painting the ground in front of him. “But at least you got it first try. Definitely an improvement.”

 

Behind them, Nick frowns and looks around. He doesn’t like tagging along on these lessons, but Coach’s knee was hurting him earlier so the group elected to let him stay behind with Ellis for the afternoon, leaving the rest of them to go out and scout nearby.

 

“Okay, so we know he can take a few normal zombies, but that’s not the real problem,” Nick steps forward and nods at the dead Infected. “What’s really important is showing him the specials, but we’re not finding any.”

 

“Never thought that would be a bad thing,” Rochelle sighs.

 

“I’ve seen them around sometimes,” Mike says anxiously, scuffing his feet. “But they’re a little smarter than the rest. I think they can sense that zombies wander into Fazbear’s, but they never come back out. They don’t come around often. We’ll have to go farther than this if we want to find one.”

 

He looks back over his shoulder. The pizza joint is only about a block away. The others aren’t happy, either, with the idea of leaving Ellis behind with only Coach and his bum knee for protection. But Mike needs to know this stuff to survive. They wander a few more blocks away. Mike is nursing a growing headache while Rochelle and Nick kill off the Infected, only if Mike doesn’t get them in time. They head inside a run down office building, hoping to find something inside.

 

They’re met mostly with other random Infected, apart from one spitter, which is swiftly dispatched by Mike’s axe. Their upward ascent is halted by a collapsed staircase, so they have to creep outside and take a ladder up a couple floors before they can continue up. They make it all the way up to the roof without a hitch, and take a water break with sighs all around.

 

“These fuckers are all over the place when we don’t want them around,” Nick complains. “And now that we need them, they’re all gone.”

 

“Maybe they can sense how truly terrifying I am, so they flee when I get within a block radius,” Mike says, leaning over the edge of the roof to see how high up they are. Rochelle affords a sarcastic laugh, but Nick only barely smiles.

 

On the way back down, after they drop down from the ladder back into the stairwell, a quiet crying filters up through the concrete well. Mike furrows his brows. “Is that a kid?” he thinks aloud, shining his flashlight down the middle of the stairs to try and look for the source of the crying.

 

Rochelle instantly clamps her hand over Mike’s wrist and shakes her head curtly. “Lights off,” she whispers, her tone so grim that Mike is taken aback.

 

“She’s definitely on the floor below,” Nick murmurs as he joins them on the landing. “Doesn’t sound like a wanderer.”

 

“I guess we _were_ looking for something nasty,” Rochelle grimaces as she turns back to Mike. “Keep quiet and _stay close_. Trust me, we don’t want to get separated for this.”

 

“What’s going on?” Mike whispers, dropping his voice to match the others. “What are you doing? Isn’t that a kid? We gotta help her.”

 

“That’s what nearly got Ellis’ guts spilled on the floor first time we found one,” Nick states dryly as they start descending the stairs.

 

“It’s… Well, people call them Witches,” Rochelle explains in a hushed tone, her gun raised. “Whatever she looks like from a distance, you can’t try to approach her. We try to give them a wide berth whenever we can, but you need to at least be able to recognize one. Hopefully we won’t get close enough to upset her.”

 

They stop a landing above the shaking and weeping form of what looks like a very thin little girl. Her thin hair falls in a curtain to hide her face as she clutches and rocks herself and wails. Mike can clearly see the signs of infection on her – her eyes are catching what little light there is and reflecting it to the point they look like they’re glowing, and her fingernails have extended into long blackened claws. But despite that, Mike’s chest aches. The girl’s in her underwear for Christ’s sake.

 

He thinks about the kids back at Freddy’s. How frightened they must have been. Cowering and crying just like her. He wonders what instinct has locked into the back of her mind that through the infection, she still cries. He wonders who her parents were, what she was like. Maybe she was on her way to a varsity sports team, maybe she was a dancer. She could have been an artist, or a punk kid, or a math whiz. He rarely ever sees Infected children – they were the first priority to get out when the Green Flu started to spread. Seeing her challenges his whole perception of the infection.

 

Tears prick his eyes and he has to look away, swallowing hard against the wave of sickness that threatens him. The staircase is still echoing with her cries.

 

Seeing someone react to a Witch for the first time is sobering, a reminder of just how desensitized the group has become to the violent cruelty of the apocalypse. None of them have ever been really comfortable with killing Witches, but they readily do so when they have no way around the crying girls, to the point where they react to the sound of sobbing with more fear and anxiety than pity.

 

They stand there for what feels like an eternity as the Witch continues to cry. Rochelle takes a couple steps back and looks out the window awkwardly, finding herself unable to keep watching the infected girl while they wait for Mike to compose himself.

 

“C’mon,” Nick finally whispers, pushing off the wall and nodding back up the stairs. “One stray zombie running through the door could set her off, and then she might decide _we’re_ fair game too.”

 

Rochelle nods as she forces herself out of her stupor, and she slowly approaches Mike. “We shouldn’t stay here, we can just head back now if you like.”

 

“Head back how?” Mike hisses. “She’s sitting on the landing of the steps. That’s our only way down.”

 

Nick and Rochelle share pale stares. “The ladder – ” she starts.

 

“Is totaled by the same thing that smashed through the wall and caved in the stairs. One of those tanks, probably,” Mike gestures at the hole in the wall one story above their heads that they climbed through to access the ladder. “It goes up but it doesn’t go down.”

 

Nick peers back up the stairs. “Think there’s another way out on one of the upper floors? Otherwise we’re fighting a Witch in close quarters.”

 

“Which is always a terrible idea,” Rochelle grimaces. The three turn back to look at the crying girl below them, dread settling over them at what may be their only way of getting back to Ellis and Coach.

 

Mike stares at her in silence for a long time. He watches her rock and cry and cry and cry. There aren’t even any tears on her warped face, her tear ducts are probably all dried up by the infection. She probably isn’t even aware of why she’s crying, or that she’s crying at all. A surge of anger wells up in Mike.

 

Every survivor has spent their fair share of time being angry about the Infection. Angry at who started it, angry that they couldn’t have seen it coming, or prepared more, angry over who they lost, over who survived when they didn’t deserve to. But Mike has been so busy at Fazbear’s that he never took the time to think about the Green Flu.

 

He’s angry now. He didn’t really have many people in his life before. He’d dropped out of high school and didn’t have any friends to begin with, his parents were ashamed of him, his girlfriend had dumped him a few weeks prior to his night job, he wasn’t close to any of the other employees. He had a dog. Dog’s probably dead by now.

 

But this girl belonged to someone. Parents, siblings, teachers, friends at school. She deserved to live, and he got the golden ticket instead because he was too cowardly to face the zombies with a baseball bat and attitude like every other goddamn survivor.

 

He steps past Rochelle and Nick, still whispering about alternate ways around. The Witch starts to growl louder as he approaches, but by the time he’s within swinging distance, he’s already started to unload six successive rounds of buckshot into her head.

 

The two exchange a shocked look as Mike’s shotgun clicks empty and the Witch crumples on the ground. “Guess we don’t have to teach him that,” Nick mutters, shaking his head in bewilderment.

 

Rochelle simply frowns and jogs down the stairs behind Mike. “Hey... Come on,” she says quietly, stopping a couple feet behind him. “We should go. You can’t get stuck on this, trust me.”

 

Mike rubs at his pounding forehead with a sigh, stepping over the body of the dead girl. He keeps heading down the stairs without another word. Rochelle casts a worried glance back at Nick, who only shrugs.

 

Mike doesn’t say a word the whole way back. He’s stewing quietly, and as much as Rochelle wants to, he isn’t very approachable right now. He doesn’t even look at the zombies he shoots. 


End file.
